Karen Hampton's Tale: ANeedful Things fanfiction
by Natalie Portman1
Summary: Karen Hampton is Mr Gaunt's new employee (written by my friend Jess!)


Archive name: Needfull.txt  
  
Authors name: Jessa B. (Address Withheld)  
  
Story Title : A Needful Things Story - Karen Hampton's Tale, by JessaB  
  
----------------------------------------------------------------------- This work is copyrighted to the author (c) 1997. Please do not remove the author information or make any changes to this story. You may post freely to non-commercial "free" sites, or in the "free" area of commer- cial sites. Thank you for your consideration.  
  
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Yadda yadda...under 18, go away...etc... The usual disclaimers apply and of course tip the hat to Stephen King for writing the original and creating Leland Gaunt. Now the movie was mediocre, but I still think Gaunt looks like Max von Sydow.  
  
Karen Hampton's Tale  
  
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She had been out of work for so long, she was beginning to despair of ever finding work anywhere. Ever since the City had cut down on their museum staff, and tossed her, the Curator of their Egyptology department, she had been looking for work.  
  
Thankfully, she had seen it coming, and saved up money, and re- duced her expenses. She had moved to the country, even though the drive to the city tired her out, the cost of living was better, the house she was renting was far cheaper than her city apartment. She had sold some of her things, and so, she had a decent cushion when the ax fell. But, she couldn't go on forever.  
  
She tried secretarial work, but no one would hire her when she told them about her last job, after all she was so damned overquali- fied, they were sure she'd leave. She was getting desperate.  
  
Then the new place opened. "Heart's Desire." She figured it was an antiques and curios place. That was work she could probably get. She got dressed and went over to the place.  
  
There was a sign in the window. "Shop assistant wanted." She thought that was just perfect. Shop Assistant sounded so very formal and nice. She walked in.  
  
He was talking to a customer, no, a workman who was supposed to put up an awning for him. He seemed to be upset about something and preoccupied. A customer walked in, the sort of person that might actually spend money, but he was too busy dealing with the stupid workman.  
  
She walked over to the customer, saw what the woman was looking at, described its origins to her, then walked her to the cash register after the woman said she'd buy. The cash register was an antique itself, not one of those awful computer things that she didn't under- stand, so she reached under the counter, and picked up the stock book (how had she instinctively known where it was?) and looked up the price and took the woman's cheque, and wrapped her purchase.  
  
The workman finally looked like he understood his instructions.  
  
The man looked up, smiled at her, said, "You're hired, can you start tomorrow?"  
  
She looked at him. He was tall, thin, but very strong looking, with utterly bottomless deep-blue-sea eyes. His look made her shiver with unnamed delight. He was dressed formally, three-piece suit, very well tailored. She was dressed plainly. White long-sleeved blouse, black ankle length skirt, plain pumps. She took off her gloves and put them under the counter, unpinned her hat and put it next to her gloves.  
  
"I've all ready started. You look like you need the help."  
  
It wouldn't occur to her for quite some time that they had never discussed hours, or benefits or pay.  
  
He would remember his reaction for many years to come. An innocent, she was totally innocent. She had never even let a man kiss her, and she had to be thirty, or more, although she didn't look older than twenty. Totally untouched. Totally pure, totally corruptible. Totally beautiful.  
  
'Amazing," he thought. "The smell of innocence is so arousing, so enticing.' He walked over behind the cash register.  
  
"I suppose I should introduce myself, I am Leland Gaunt. Its a pleasure to meet someone who knows the trade. I had despaired of find- ing someone suitable until your arrival."  
  
Before she could respond, he grasped her hand in his, as if to shake it, but instead, he turned it up and planted a kiss in her palm. And another on her wrist. She shuddered, and smiled. She had a beauti- ful smile.  
  
"I am Karen Hampton, Mr. Gaunt. So, do you need help unpacking those boxes?"  
  
He nodded. As she helped him unwrap the myriad items packed in the crates, his hands frequently met hers over the box. It never oc- curred to her to go and work on a different box, though. Then their hands met on a velvet case.  
  
He smiled at her. "Open it."  
  
She did. There was a heart-shaped cameo on a blood-red velvet ribbon. The cameo looked old and well loved, with the patina that came from being worn regularly, and having been well cared for. She would easily price it at five or six hundred dollars. It was beautiful.  
  
He smiled at her. "Try it on, why don't you. It would look pretty on you, I think."  
  
She smiled at him and picked it up out of the box. She reached back and fumbled as she tried to tie a bow in the ribbon behind her neck. Her fingers simply would not work properly. She had never been so clumsy before. Also, the cameo kept snagging on her collar. He looked at her.  
  
"You might want to at least un-do the top button, it would make it easier to get the ribbon around your throat." She turned away from him and followed his instruction, undoing not one, but two buttons on her blouse. The cameo still snagged. She looked at him and laughed helplessly. "May I?"  
  
"Of course, Mr. Gaunt."  
  
"Please, if we're to work together, it should be Leland, my dear. And you must, of course, be Karen."  
  
She smiled shyly this time, and blushed.  
  
He had not felt this way in nearly a century. He wanted her. Not just to corrupt, but to have, to take. He had a need that had not been sated in decades. He had seduced and corrupted many a beautiful woman, but this one, this one, was the first that he felt for. The first that made him desire, that damnmit-all made him hard.  
  
He had thought he was beyond all that foolishness. He wanted to strip her clothes from her and fuck her. To take her and use her for his most perverse and perverted pleasures, here, now, and forget the long-range plans.  
  
But, no, he was stronger than that. He would take her, yes. But by the time he was finished Karen would be utterly and completely his. And her soul would be forfeit to his lust for all eternity. He. Would. Wait.  
  
He came around behind her, and took the ribbon ends from her hands. Bringing them around behind her neck, he tied them gently, letting the cameo fall against her throat. He smiled as he felt the electric shock of the contact. As always the contact made the recipient dream of their fantasies, and as always he could watch the dream. It was an easy way to target a victim, learning their most secret desires in a moment's touch.  
  
He nearly laughed. Oh, she really was an innocent. He would have to do something about that. He saw the scene in her mind. She wanted to marry him. The whole business at a fancy church (as if he would be caught dead in a church), in a white dress. And damn if she didn't actually want a house with a bloody white picket fence. It was too silly for words. How could this woman exist in the present world, so innocent and pure. Even in her fantasies.  
  
He let his hands fall to her shoulders, exerting a gentle pressure against her. He pulled her back toward him, until she was leaning against his chest, and whispered into her ear.  
  
"Now, Karen, if you're going to wear that cameo, you need to find a blouse that shows it off. Something that bares your lovely throat."  
  
She shuddered against him, but did not pull away, he was exerting that particular power of his, that deadly persuasion.  
  
"In fact, lovely Karen, that blouse covers far too much."  
  
If Karen had gone to the door, she would have been surprised that a sign had suddenly appeared, stating that the store was not yet open for business, and that the door was suddenly locked. But she did not go to the door, and those things were far from her mind as she leaned her body against his.  
  
"Karen, that blouse covers far too much." he whispered again.  
  
He smiled into her hair as she reached up and began to unbutton it. He risked taking things too fast because he wanted her so badly. She began to unbutton her blouse a little more. He smiled again and looked down over her shoulder. She had barely undone the top few but- tons. He reached across her shoulders and pulled her collar open, smoothing the fabric down to the top button, exposing her cleavage, running a finger over the top of her breast.  
  
"More, Karen, show me your breasts, I want to touch them."  
  
She undid the rest of the blouse, still leaning against him. She was in a dazed fog, she had no conscious knowledge of what she was doing, yet.  
  
"Take it off, Karen, let me see you. Show me."  
  
She moaned as if she were dreaming, but obeyed, and slid the blouse off her smooth shoulders.  
  
He ran his hands down her arms, helping her slide the sleeves off her hands. The bared flesh was warm and soft. If he wasn't certain that it would break his spell on her, he would have bitten her, pinched her, done something to mark that perfect skin. She was too perfect. He would have to whip her when he was done, yes, that would do. Perfection gal- led him. She would be his willing wanton yet.  
  
"Karen," he whispered, with just a little disappointment colouring his tone, that studied disappointment of an unhappy Master, "Karen, I told you that I wanted to see your breasts."  
  
She reached back between them, she was still leaning against him, and unfastened her bra.  
  
He smiled and slid the straps over her shoulder, running his hands down her until they slid under the fabric and her bra fell away from her. His strong, long fingered hands, covered her breasts perfectly, as he rubbed his palms over her.  
  
She gasped and moaned and writhed back against him as her nipples hardened with lust, and he knew that her cunt was becoming moist with desire. He removed his hands from her.  
  
"Tell me what you want, Karen. You may be innocent, but you are not ignorant. Tell me what you want, Karen." He stepped back away from her body.  
  
"Please....please....please...." she moaned, stepping back, trying to regain contact with him.  
  
"What do you want Karen? Please, what, Karen?"  
  
"Touch me, touch me again. Please touch me again."  
  
"Where? What do you want me to do Karen?" He reached out and stroked her arm. "What do you want?"  
  
"Please touch me again," she stammered, blushing as scarlet as the ribbon around her throat, "Please touch my breasts again," she finally gasped out.  
  
"Really? Is that what you want?"  
  
"Yes, please, please, please, touch me again."  
  
His mind reached out to hers, planted a thought, 'Wanton harlot. You are nothing but a wanton harlot, and should not pretend to be what you are not.'  
  
Out loud he said, "You want what?" his voice colder and more wickedly sexual.  
  
She shivered as the thoughts ran through her, he understood what was happening. Her innocent nature was at war with him. He was moulding her into something that she was not inclined to be. She was fighting the desires welling up in her. The heat stirring in her heart. The struggle was brief, but difficult. If he lost hold of her now, he would have to leave this town and go elsewhere, because he would be wanted for at minimum sexual harassment, oh, what a wonderful term. Sexual harassment. He loved the idea of it. He won. He saw it in her eyes. Heard it in her voice.  
  
"Please, please stroke my tits again, please, please...."  
  
He stepped up against her again, and pulled her toward him, her back resting against him, and he ran his hands up her hips, her waist, and then grasped her breasts, and began to stroke them, rolling her nipples in his fingers until they were hard and so sensitive that a touch made her shiver.  
  
He planted another thought, pain is pleasure, pleasure is pain, and then while stroking her nipples, brought his fingers together, pinching her, hard. He sent a flash of power between her thighs, forc- ing her to cum, as he pinched her. Holding her back with every caress, letting her have her pleasure only when his wicked fingers clasped against her. Pain is pleasure, and pleasure is pain.  
  
Since they were alone, he made her work the rest of the afternoon with her blouse off.  
  
Occasionally, he would reach out and stroke her, or bring her to climax with a pinch. She became more forward as the afternoon wore on.  
  
Finally, while she finished with a box of small figurines, he went over and sat down in an armchair to watch her. She still wasn't ready to strip for him and beg for him to fuck her, to defile her, to take her. But it was a start.  
  
When she finished her work, he beckoned her over to him, and had her sit on his lap. He kissed her lips, and caressed her breasts, then had her dress and go home. It was around seven o'clock.  
  
For some reason, Karen decided that she had to go shopping before she went home. She drove into the nearby city. Well, it was hard to call it a city, but it was larger than the town she lived in and had a mall.  
  
She went in and found a shop that sold women's clothes. She looked around until she found a scoop-necked dress with a flared skirt. It was a knit fabric, so that it had some give in it, with a bit of elastic woven in to keep the shape of it. She tried it on, and for some reason, left her bra off.  
  
She had nice breasts, the sort that didn't need much support, so the dress looked nice on her. Then she looked in the mirror and in her dream mind she sensed hands on her, she reached down the front of the dress and pulled it down to see if she could wear it with her breasts exposed. If it could be pulled down easily to expose her. She smiled. It could.  
  
She bought three of them, one black, one white and one blood red.  
  
She went home to bed, and undressed, for some reason she wanted to sleep nude. She had never done that before and it felt strange to her. In the morning, she showered, and dressed, she wore the black dress with the cameo around her neck. In fact she hadn't realized she was still wearing the cameo until she had gotten into the shower. She had to take it off to keep the ribbon from getting soaked, and she felt a loss when she did. She showered quickly and put it back on as soon as she was dry.  
  
She went to work. The sign saying the store was not yet open was still in the door, but the door was open, so she walked in.  
  
His voice greeted her, "Karen, lock the door, otherwise, inquisi- tive people will be walking in all day." She locked the door.  
  
He took her into the back room, and they began to unpack more boxes. He smiled to himself. She looked exquisite. So lovely, it actually made him ache.  
  
One part of him said, "Fuck her right now, forget about her soul, take her body and pleasure yourself."  
  
The other side said, "One moment of carnal pleasure versus an eternity of tormenting her...choose." He chose. Immediacy could wait. But, still he would have his fun.  
  
"Karen, what did I tell you yesterday about wanting to see you?"  
  
She smiled shyly, but didn't hesitate to pull the front of the dress down. He rewarded her quick response by reaching out and pinching her. She came. He smiled. She worked the rest of the day with her beautiful breasts exposed.  
  
The next day when she came in, she locked the door, walked into the back room, smiled at him, and pulled the top of the white dress down before he said a word. He pulled her into his arms and bent his head to her, kissed her face, her lips, her throat, trailed his tongue down her shoulder, and across to her breast, and rolling his tongue over her nipple, he bit down.  
  
This was the first real test. Would she wake from the dream and scream, or would she wake from the dream and pull him closer? She came and pulled his head down to herself, moaning delightfully, she kissed his hair.  
  
"Karen, what do you want?"  
  
"You. I want you."  
  
He sent her a wickedly carnal day dream, all the depraved things a man could do to a woman, "What do you want?" Then he took the gamble and jumped, "Look at me. No, better yet look at yourself," he turned her to face a mirror, let her see herself, dressed like a harlot, with her breasts exposed and the marks of his bite across her.  
  
"So, whore, what do you want?"  
  
She looked up at him, and her response grabbed him by the heart and squeezed. "I am not a whore, what I give you I give you for free."  
  
"Freely, you swear it? Are you certain? Do you have any idea what you're doing?"  
  
He sent her a vision of eternal depravity and sexual torment. A vision of her writhing in unfulfilled ecstasy. Eternally his. He smiled his true smile. All the fearsome power. He reached out and took her hand in his and kissed her palm, and this time bit down. Hard. Drawing blood.  
  
She looked down at her hand, with the detached vision of someone who is outside herself. She reached up and put her palm to his lips.  
  
"Yes, I know what I'm doing. Free will. Even I have free will. But this blood will seal nothing. There is only one blood which will seal this."  
  
And for one moment he actually knew fear. There was something subtly different about her, something that he should recognize, but didn't. He looked at her, she looked even more beautiful than the day he met her.  
  
He reached up and ripped the dress from her. She took off her shoes and stockings, and was naked before of him.  
  
'Only one blood, to seal this.'  
  
"Say it, I want to hear it from your own lips." Somehow, he knew that he must make her ask for it, if he took her without her consent, he would fail. He would lose her forever.  
  
"Fuck me."  
  
He smiled at her, sent a brief thought to her, and she smiled back.  
  
"Fuck me, Master. Fuck me hard, fuck me like a harlot, like a tramp, rip me open with your marvellous cock, and fuck me until I cannot walk and you have to carry me. Take me, use me, fuck me."  
  
He was on her in an instant, she was clawing at his belt, at the zipper in his trousers, her hips bucking wildly, begging for him with her legs spread like a slut.  
  
He smiled down at her, "So, are you wet and waiting for me? Touch yourself until you're wet."  
  
Her hands slid between her thighs and she fondled herself, rubbing harder and harder, failing to find release, failing to find that com- forting warmth and wetness that would make this easier on her.  
  
He knew, and he wanted her that way. He wanted to take her in pain. The more it hurt her, the better it would be. She was as dry as the desert and he knew it. He would honour her every wish, he would rip her open and take her like the harlot she was.  
  
She understood his plan. She gave up on the zipper and simply rip- ped his trousers open.  
  
He smiled. "Go over to the table and lay yourself over it. Face- down like a slut."  
  
She did as he asked and he came behind her and with one knife-like thrust, he was inside her. He pounded her roughly, the lack of lubri- cation made her scream with every stroke. Finally he stiffened against her and suddenly the pressure eased, as she felt him spill his seed on her back. Even in the moment of his triumph, her virgin blood staining his cock, he would not give her pleasure. She moaned against the table.  
  
Suddenly he was thrusting against her virgin ass. Pounding her as she screamed even louder. She threw her head back and screamed in ec- stasy and pain, as he kept his promise to rip her open. He was like a burning brand, a hot fireplace poker. She was sure that she was on fire, that she would be burned when it was over. Again he came across her back.  
  
Then he kept his promise to himself, and marked up her perfect flesh with his belt, her back, her delightfully used ass. He looked at her and smiled and pulled out a chair.  
  
"You should rest, my dear. Here, sit down." She gasped at him, the chair was wooden. She understood. She sat down gingerly, he put his hand on her shoulder and pressed her down. "I said 'sit'." She moaned again as her bruised ass hit the chair.  
  
He used her all night. Carrying her to the bed, when she could no longer stand up over the table. And as morning came he smiled down at her and ran his hand over her breast and pinch ed her, hard. The orgasm she had would last her for a century at least.  
  
Which was a good thing, because it might be her last for at least that long. Unless he was in a particularly good mood.  
  
Suddenly the lights went out as if the power had been turned off for a moment. It seemed as if it was midnight. For one second, it felt as if the world went dark. And he looked at her, and looked up and smiled triumphantly. Heaven had lost one more daughter to sin.  
  
He pinched her again, and in the utter joy his new acquisition had given him, he fucked her hot wetness, like a lover, for her plea- sure. And when he spilled his seed inside her, he heard the storm breaking. Yes. Another child of mine will walk the world soon.  
  
This time he had won. The odds went in his favor. Next time he might not be so lucky, but that was the way the battle was fought, one soul at a time. Karen would live a long full life at his side, and take her place in hell when she died. He was happy.  
  
He looked at a map and picked his next destination. Suddenly the boxes were packed, and it was time to leave. She bathed, dressed. How did her red dress get into the shop? She would never figure out that part, but she put it on. As he helped her into the car, she smiled at him, and leaned over and kissed him.  
  
  
  
----------------------------- The Someplace Daily Chronicle  
  
some month, someday, somewhen -----------------------------  
  
  
  
The local police are at a loss in locating Miss Karen Hampton. The young lady was discovered missing last Friday, when a friend of hers tried to contact her, with what was apparently a job offer. Miss Hampton's car, purse, and property all seem to be intact. There is no outward evidence of foul play, but it is not believed that Miss Hampton ran away, because she took no money, clothing or even food, that can be discerned. As of now the FBI has been called and the case is being considered a kidnapping. No ransom has been demanded.  
  
  
  
The photo that appeared was curiously blurred, and not even the best attempts of the police artist to sketch her came close to what she looked like. Soon, she was forgotten, by all but a few townspeople who always remembered the weird happenings.  
  
  
  
the end  
  
for now *  
  
  
  
Jessa -- the weird greedy wicked obsessed insatiable depraved one  
  
JessaB@aol.com  
  
JessaB@pig.net 


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